A Flightless Bird
by Looney Loopy Lupin
Summary: Set at the very end of Haunted. What if there was no dust that caused Robin to experience all his violent hallucinations? What if it all really was just in his head? Rated for language.
1. Oblivion

Hello, all! It's been quite a long while since I've posted anything on here... It's wonderful to be back!

(and if you're curious as to why you've been receiving notifications of new chapters, I've also been doing considerable amounts of editing, adding some extra details here and there... I like what this story has turned into after editing so much!)

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own the Teen Titans. Sad day.

So, you all remember how at the very end of _Haunted_, Robin, with the help of his friends, realized that his visions of Slade were never real due to Slade's mask containing the hallucinogenic dust at the beginning of the episode. I had originally intended this story to be a what-if tale of what happened if Slade never really left... instead, something different came about.

What if there was never any dust...?

Enjoy!

* * *

**Oblivion**

"_A man does not wish for death because of pain and suffering... he has simply lived through far too much life."_

* * *

He felt as though he was falling, falling, falling. Falling away from reality... falling all the way into the depths of darkness.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think about anything else except the excruciating pain that was wracking through his entire body.

"Get up." A low voice ordered.

The darkness of the basement was spinning before Robin's swollen eyes.

Ample amounts of blood were seeping from the side of his temple and his hip, and it was progressively becoming more and more difficult to stay conscious.

Slade bent down, his one visible eye narrowing. "I said, get up."

With his one last ounce of strength, Robin painfully rose from the floor, panting with the effort. He glared defiantly at his attacker, raising his fists in combat.

"Good boy." Slade smirked. Suddenly, he punched him hard in the gut.

Robin crumpled to the floor, heaving and wheezing for breath.

Slade chuckled humorlessly. "You're even weaker than I thought."

_I'm going to die..._

He picked the boy up by the collar and threw him onto the concrete floor. "You say that I am not real."

He kicked Robin hard in the chest, sending him tumbling towards the wall. "You say that I am only in your mind."

Another kick. "A mere figment of your imagination."

Slade bent down, looking into Robin's mangled face. "You are fooling yourself, you ignorant child. I haunt every dark corner of your mind. I am the thing that keeps you up at night, the one who instills mortal fear into you. I will always be inside your mind, for forever and eternity. You will never escape me."

Another kick, to the back this time, sending the boy writhing into the fetal position.

_Please, let me die..._

Above them, distressed voices were coming.

Robin mustered up the strength to speak. "Slade... please... please stop..." He croaked.

"Dear child... I will put you out of your misery..." Slade said, smiling maliciously.

He kicked Robin in the face, finally sending him into the darkness of oblivion.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Indeed, a bit violent and sadistic of a chapter... similar to Slade, yes?

Yes, this was a (really) short one... more to come, I promise!


	2. Reality

Truth: We as humans are rational creatures. The choices we make, we don't make simply by instinct. We consider every single possibility, desperately trying to picture what our choices will bring... in the end, we choose what will help us obtain the more desirable outcome.

But, the choices that we have to make in the midst of sadness, sickness, and the prospect of death... those choices are the hardest.

* * *

**Reality**

_"The most beneficial choices are never easy."_

* * *

He could hear voices quietly talking, though they sounded very far away.

"It is good we got to the basement in time. A few more minutes, and he... he might have..." A teary voice said sadly, fading.

"I know..." A gruff voice said sadly.

"It doesn't matter," A flat, monotonous voice said. "Something... very bad has happened inside his mind." A pause. "I've ran tests for viruses, drugs, hallucinogens, probes... any external source that could have caused all of this to happen..."

"Was there anything to be found?" The teary voice whispered.

A pause. "Nothing. What happened tonight was purely in his head."

"There has to be something." A stuffy voice insisted. "I mean, you don't get a cracked rib just from hitting yourself."

A sigh. "Don't underestimate what the human body is capable of. I know it doesn't seem possible, but all his injuries were indeed self-inflicted."

Silence.

"To him, everything that happened with Slade tonight was real. In reality... none of it ever happened."

Another pause. "Raven, what are you saying?" The gruff voice sounded sickened.

"I'm saying... clearly, we can't help him anymore."

Shocked silence.

"What does this mean?" A tear stricken voice whispered.

More silence.

"It means, he needs outside help. Professional help."

"You think he really is... sick." The gruff voice said softly.

Silence.

"Cyborg, you have to remember that unlike the rest of us, Robin is only human. He is as susceptible as anyone else to mental illness."

"Raven, he isn't crazy! He's not sitting on street corners telling everyone that he secretly works for the CIA-"

A violent fit of sneezing ensued.

"I... I understand..." The stuffy voice said, his voice feeble. "I know that Robin has always been... off sometimes. I know he doesn't always handle stuff like he should... but, you really think sending him to one of those hospitals will..."

"I don't know. But that's just it... We aren't doctors and are in no position to guess what is happening to him." The monotonous voice said simply.

Then, a shocked gasp. "We are sending him... away?"

"Starfire, he needs to get away from everything here so that he can concentrate on fixing whatever is going on inside his head. Keeping him here will enable him to continue the way he is. Eventually, he's going to hurt others, as well as himself."

"Look," The gruff voice was hesitant. "I wanna help him... but, this isn't just anyone we're talking about... this is Robin. Our leader, our friend. Are you sure this is the best solution?"

"Cyborg, we're his friends. He knows that we only have his best interests in mind-"

"Does he?" The teary voice was doubtful. "Will he not feel abandoned? We are indeed his friends. We are all he has."

Silence.

"Then, there's only one other option..."

* * *

Robin slowly came to full consciousness, his breathing shallow. Every inch of his body ached as though he had been bludgeoned relentlessly for days on end. He painfully opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by the Titans in the medical room in the tower.

His friends, surprised, looked down upon their awakening leader.

Struggling to speak, he croaked, "What... what happened?"

"You are safe... here in the hospital room, at home." Starfire said, gently caressing his gloved hand.

"H-how?" Robin stammered.

Cyborg looked down upon him, his human eye sad. "By the time we got downstairs, you were completely unconscious. You had more injuries than you had before... probably from falling down all the stairs."

"We got you back up here, got some fluids into you, got you stabilized. You're going to be fine." Raven assured him.

Robin nodded, fearfully looking around the room.

There was no Slade lurking in the dark corners.

Sighing, he gazed out the window. "There's just one thing I don't understand."

Starfire looked at him curiously. "What is that?"

His swollen eyes suddenly flashed with anger. "You really still believe I got all those injuries from hurting _myself_?" He glared at his bewildered teammates. "For your information, I... am never. Ever. Going to... an _asylum_." He said the last word as if it was poisonous.

His comrades looked down guiltily, knowing he overheard their prior conversation.

Cyborg put his hands up in surrender. "Look man... we just-"

"No!" Robin panted with the effort of yelling. "We aren't discussing it, because it is never going to happen, end of story."

Raven shook her head calmly. "We'll discuss this later. For now, you need to rest."

Despite his dwindling strength, Robin shook his head, beginning to hyperventilate. "No. I... I made a mistake tonight. I know that. But, you want to send me to a _mental_ _hospital_?"

"Robin, calm down-"

"No!" He began to desperately tear at his restraints, his chest heaving with terror.

"I thought you were my friends..." He faded, horrified, when he saw Raven pull out a needle. "No no! Please, don't do this to me! _Please_!" He desperately pleaded.

The other titans sadly looked away as Raven sedated him, diminishing all his thrashing almost instantly.

The room was completely still for several moments. The terrified cries of their leader seemed to echo around them for an eternity.

Raven was the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. "This has gone too far."

The other three slowly looked up at the empath, horror filling their senses.

She took a breath. "As I was saying, we only have one other option."

Cyborg looked at her, his human eye desperate. "What's that?"

She paused. "Batman."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

What'll Batman do? Will he fix our broken Boy Wonder?

Please review!


	3. Gone

Abandonment is a poison. It pollutes every good thought and good feeling, eliminates every memory of companionship. It takes hold of a once hopeful spirit and turns it into a depressed, unseeing creature.

* * *

**Gone **

_"One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane." _

* * *

Robin struggled to open his eyes. His eyelids felt as though they were made of lead.

He squinted at the sudden brightness, his temples aching. The room was stark, white, without windows. The only furniture in the room was the bed he was on and a rickety chair in the corner. There was an ominous stain on one of the padded walls.

_Wait... a padded wall..._

He stared at the thick leather straps holding his wrists and ankles fast to his bed. His colorful uniform was gone, replaced by a faded pair of rank-smelling pajamas.

_Oh my god... no, no no no no no they didn't..._

Bile burned his throat when he realized he was in a hospital. A real hospital. And, real restraints held him fast to his real hospital bed.

A low, menacing voice suddenly broke the silence. "You have lost everything."

Terrified, Robin desperately looked around the room.

No one was there.

"You are a failure." The voice hissed.

Without any hesitation, he began screaming for help, desperately trying to inch his way out of the straps.

An attendant came in calmly. His hardened face, short haircut, and white uniform made him look severe, but his eyes were kind and full of concern.

Trying to control his hyperventilating, Robin wheezed, "Please... please tell me... where I am...?"

The man looked down and left without any answer.

"Please!" Robin begged.

The man didn't come back.

Tears fell down his cheeks as he began hyperventilating again, screaming for his friends who were no longer there.

Slade suddenly emerged from behind the bed, strolling over to a chair in the corner of the room.

"You pathetic child." He whispered.

The boy was nearly shaking and screaming himself into a seizure.

_Someone, please make this hell stop._

The attendant suddenly returned with another burly-looking attendant. "Robin," The man held the boy by the shoulders, trying to calm him. "Look... look at me."

Robin's desperate eyes looked into his dark eyes. "First thing. You need to calm down. You are safe, I promise you."

He looked around.

Slade was gone.

Robin finally obeyed, calming his heaving chest and tear-filled eyes.

The attendant nodded, smiling kindly. "Good. You are in a hospital-"

Robin suddenly began hyperventilating again, the reality of the situation hitting him like a truck.

The attendant's smile faded. "For now, it is vital that you keep yourself calm."

Robin, quickly running out of energy and defiance, nodded and looked away sadly.

The attendant's smile returned. "Good. As I said, you are in a hospital. You are still in Jump City. Not far at all from your tower and your friends. You are safe here."

A flicker of hope returned. Robin turned to meet the attendant's eyes again.

"How did I get here?" Robin croaked, his voice hoarse from yelling.

The attendant hesitated. "We received a distress call. You were brought here two days ago."

_I've been here for two days, without even realizing it?_

Robin stared up at the ceiling, taking in the man's words.

"I know this is very overwhelming."

"Was there any explanation as to why you received a distress call?" Robin asked softly.

Again, the attendant hesitated. "Bruce Wayne stated that you were having violent hallucinations. He feared for your safety."

_Oh my god. They called him._

"Robin?" The man looked concerned.

The boy couldn't contain his violent sobs. "Why... w-why did they call h-him?"

The attendant looked at the floor. "I only know of what Mr. Wayne explained to us..." He paused. "I was the one who answered the call. Before you were brought here, you were already sedated. Mr. Wayne only ordered us to keep you stable and to do whatever it took to stop you from hallucinating again."

_Like bringing a car to the repair shop... don't care what's done, just fix it..._

"They think I'm crazy." Robin whispered to himself, his chest beginning to heave again. "That's why they called him."

The attendant shook his head reassuringly. "You can discuss this more with your doctor. For now, it's important that you rest."

Without any comment, Robin turned over on his side and closed his eyes.

The attendant gave a hesitant nod and left the room.

_Bruce thinks I've lost my mind._

Robin looked up at the ceiling, tears rolling down his cheeks.

_He thinks I'm gone. Why else would he send me here...?_

Without any restraint, he began screaming. Long, painful, anguish-filled screams mixed with sobs.

"WHY?" He shrieked at the ceiling.

No one answered.

* * *

He was suddenly jarred awake by two unfamiliar attendants as they hastily unlocked his restraints.

He closed his eyes, wondering if it was minutes, hours, or days that had passed.

Both attendants gently helped him stand and stretch out his limbs, sore from lack of use for so many days.

Slade was sitting in the corner, smiling idly. "It's nice to finally see you without a mask."

The boy paled as he quickly tried to touch his eyes.

Indeed, his mask had been removed. Judging by the raw, scabbed patches of skin where it had been glued to, the mask had been removed quite violently.

Without any explanation, they led him out of his room and through a maze of corridors. Slade silently followed, still smirking.

For a short moment, Robin was able to look out a window to see dazzling sunshine that was characteristic of a late morning.

The group stopped outside a fancy wooden door that was engraved with some doctor's name.

_Here we go..._

"Robin, did you ever think you would end up here?" Slade chuckled.

Robin closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore his antagonizer.

"What would your father think, to know that his only son landed himself in the nuthouse?" Slade hissed in his ear.

"Shut up." Robin mumbled.

The two attendants frowned at the boy before they realized that he was not talking to them.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Yes, everything is so dreary and depressing... this chapter has been by far the hardest to write (but was the most interesting to edit). Thank you in advance for your kind reviews.


	4. Cracking

Interestingly, this was the chapter that came first. I'm trying this new thing where the story is only a conversation, without descriptors almost at all... Similar to a movie/television script. We'll see what happens.

* * *

**Cracking**

_"Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked... a time comes when the line between fantasy & reality disappears."_

* * *

Hello.

...

My name is Dr. Wilkins.

...

Just so I know who I'm talking to, would you like to tell me your name?

...it's on the file you've got in front of you.

If it's okay, I would like to hear it from you.

...does it really matter?

It certainly does matter. A name is important.

...

...Okay then. If you don't have a name, what would you like me to call you?

...leave me alone.

You want me to call you 'Leave Me Alone'?

I really don't care what the fuck you call me.

There is no need for harsh words like that.

...don't lecture me. You aren't my mother.

May I call you Robin?

No.

Why not?

My name isn't Robin.

Then, what is your name?

...

Okay. Can you tell me who it was you were talking to when you came in here a little while ago?

...I wasn't talking to anyone.

Robin, you most certainly were talking to someone.

No, I wasn't. He isn't real.

If he isn't real, then why were you talking to him?

...

Robin. Why do you talk to someone who you know is not there?

...because it's the only way to make him stop.

Let's talk a little about what you're feeling right now.

...

Are you feeling anything?

I'm in a mental hospital. How do you think I feel?

You seem rather angry to me.

No shit, Sherlock.

Why are you so angry?

...

Robin?

...I'm angry because I'm not crazy. I don't belong here.

I don't think you're crazy at all. But, you've been talking to someone who isn't real. That isn't exactly healthy.

...he says that you're wrong. He's very real.

Robin, is he here right now?

...

What is he saying to you?

...he's saying that you can't help me.

* * *

Hello again, Robin.

...

How are you feeling today?

...

You seem a bit subdued today. What are you thinking about?

...what am I supposed to be thinking about?

I don't know. You tell me.

...

Well, we need to get into some of the deeper stuff today.

...

You know, talking about these things will help you.

...why do you care?

Because, I want to help you get better.

...I'm fine.

Are you really?

...you don't know anything about me.

Quite the contrary. I know everything about you.

...

Let's see here... I know that you witnessed your parents' deaths as a child, nearly killed the man who murdered them...

...

As a young child, you worked alongside a man who calls himself The Dark Night-

Stop-

Worked against an evil man by becoming a villain yourself-

No-

You were put under the control of that same evil man, were forced to work and steal for him, and even had to hurt your friends for the sake of their lives-

Please, please stop-

You watched another one of your friends fall under his control and witnessed her eventually lose her life-

STOP!

You experience violent outbursts of anger, have obsessive-compulsive tendencies, have depressive coping mechanisms, and now-

NO! STOP-

Now, you are hallucinating that the evil man is alive... You have physically and emotionally destroyed yourself, and you even threatened to destroy your friends.

...please...

Now, I know this is hard to take. I know you're scared... But, you need to understand that you have been through much more than any average teenager, any average human being, really.

... (sobbing)

You have endured so much in your young life. The fact that you are finally cracking under all that pressure does not make you crazy or cowardly in the least.

... (more sobbing)

It makes you human. There is more to you than just a mask, more to you than just Robin, The Boy Wonder. You are not only a hero.

...

Robin, I know that you are a good person, a wonderful person, actually. You have just had a lot of really bad things happen to you.

...

You have maintained such a strong, confident persona for so long. Somehow, the uncertain, dark part of your mind has began to take over.

...

I am here to help you take control of that darkness... to help you bring back that brave, noble hero that is Robin.

...my name isn't Robin.

Then, what is your name?

Dick. Dick Grayson.

Good. What can you tell me about Dick Grayson?

...I don't know. I haven't seen him in... a long time.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Yes, Dr. Wilkins is my own creation... we'll learn more about her later.

Did you catch the Harry Potter reference in there? ;)

Thoughts...?


	5. Consumed

At one point or another, we all experience some type of insanity at least once during the course of life. A normal person is able to silence or even eliminate the voices he hears in his head every so often... but, some people can't shake those voices. Somehow, those evil voices begin to manifest themselves as real people, and suddenly, a young man ends up in a sanitarium.

* * *

**Consumed**

_"I lie on the floor, washed by nothing and hanging on. I cry at night. I am afraid of hearing voices, or a voice. I have come to the edge, of the land. I could get pushed over."_

* * *

Hello, Dick.

...

I'm only here to talk for a little bit. You made some wonderful progress yesterday.

...

Every time you are able to tell me about yourself, you are healing. Being able to talk about yourself isn't easy.

...who cares.

Who cares? Well for starters, I care.

No you don't.

I don't...?

No. I know I'm not special, like you make me out to be. You have plenty of other patients you have to deal with. You just fuck with our minds to make us do what you want and react the way you want. All this is just a game.

Why would I be playing games?

...you're just like him.

Dick, have you been seeing Slade again?

* * *

Hello, Dick.

...

Do you feel like talking to me today?

No.

I think it might help.

...

I've heard you haven't been wanting to eat. Judging by the dark circles under your eyes, I don't think you've been sleeping either.

...why does it matter?

It matters because refusing to eat or sleep isn't learning how to function again. If you can't function, you can't get out of here.

How does being in a fucking asylum teach me how to function?

Why are you so angry?

I'm angry because I don't belong here. I'm not crazy.

I don't believe you're crazy, Dick. Let's talk about the hallucinations.

...

Is Slade here right now?

...

Dick? I can't help you unless you talk to me. Is Slade here right now?

...yes. He's sitting over there.

Is he saying anything?

...not right now.

What does he say to you?

...

Dick?

...he taunts me all the time. Calls me a coward, a failure. He says I brought this on myself, and I'll never escape him.

Since you've been here, how have the hallucinations started again?

...

Dick?

...I don't know. It just kind of... happened.

Something had to trigger it. What were you thinking about when he came back?

...

Was there something that reminded you of him?

...I... I was thinking.

You were thinking. About what?

...

Dick-

Everything. Everything that's happened. Everything that I've lost. I don't have friends, family, nothing. I am a nothing. I see people and talk to people who don't exist... I'm in a mental hospital, too crazy to even go to the bathroom alone. I've destroyed myself, and threatened to destroy my friends. I might as well be dead.

I don't believe that. But, Slade showed his face again?

... (nods)

Dick, why are you crying?

(sniffling)...I thought it had stopped...

It's okay. Every time you take a big step forward, you have to take a small step back. You shouldn't be discouraged.

...

You understand that seeing Slade does not make him real? That he can't really hurt you?

...yes.

You understand that thinking about the bad things in your life... allowing yourself to become consumed in all that sadness and anger... that's what makes him appear?

...yes.

Then Dick, you understand what causes your hallucinations.

Really?

Yes.

... (smile)

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Happiness (finally)! Please review!


	6. Violate

Yes yes, this is a new chapter! Winter break + Teen Titans on Youtube = Me thinking & writing like crazy!

I'm not going to give you much info, other than be ready to be floored...

* * *

**Violate**

_"Fathers are supposed to destroy the monsters, not be the monsters."_

* * *

Good morning, Dick.

...'morning.

How are you feeling today?

...okay, I guess.

You guess?

I feel almost... normal. I slept pretty good last night.

I can tell. You're looking a little better today.

...

Dick, I think today might be a good day to talk about what happened with Slade.

...

I know it sounds scary... but I think it would be really good if we could talk about it. It will help you accept it and begin to heal. But, if at any point you're feeling too scared to continue, we'll stop.

...

Is it okay with you if we talk about him?

...what do you want to know?

Well, let's begin with the apprenticeship.

...what about it?

I understand the gist of what happened... but, I'm guessing that a lot of other things happened during the parts of the apprenticeship that were not publicized.

...

Did he put you through a lot of training?

...yes.

What kinds of training?

...

Dick?

...he trained me in every way possible.

Physically, you mean?

Yes.

How?

Mostly through sparring. He also had me do a lot of endurance training.

I see. Was it difficult?

...I guess. It wasn't much different from the training... the training I had been through before.

With Batman?

...yeah.

How did Slade train you mentally?

...

Dick?

He... he wanted to sort of act as a teacher, a mentor... a father.

I see. What did he teach you?

He taught me everything... How to kill. How to steal. How to fight, see weaknesses in others, to manipulate...

How did he teach you how to kill?

We started with hunting first... but I knew what it was leading to.

Did he ever force you to kill a person?

...he planned to.

But, you never actually had to do it?

No. I got out before he started me in on that.

That's good.

(nods)...

But, that's not all he did, is it...?

...

From what I understand, he was a master of brainwashing.

...you could say that.

May I ask how he went about this?

He... he would be really horrible to me for a while. Make me spar for hours on end, with no rest or anything. Said I had no stamina. He would take every single opportunity to say how weak and worthless I was, how Batman didn't train me correctly, how I needed his guidance... and then, right when I was close to giving up, he would let me stop and rest. He would give me food and water, and tell me how much better I was doing when I pushed myself.

He was making what he was doing to you okay, in other words...?

...I guess. It kept going... training as hard as I could, taking all his shit, and then him giving me rewards for working so hard. He was forcing me to learn to accept what was happening, to embrace what he was giving me.

I see. What kinds of rewards did he give you?

...

Dick?

...I don't want to talk about that.

Why?

I just don't, okay? You said we don't have to talk about things I don't want to.

I said that, yes... but-

Then leave me _alone._

Dick, I promise... talking about it will help-

No, it won't.

How do you know?

...

Just give it a chance. Give _yourself _a chance.

Please, please don't...

Let's just talk about it a little bit. If you're feeling too frightened, we'll stop. I promise.

...

Tell me what happened.

It started out with just satisfying needs... food, water, rest. Then, compliments. Then, new weapons...

Then what?

...the rewards started to get... strange.

Strange, how?

The third day... We were sparring when he slammed me really hard on the floor, and my shoulder got dislocated. I was okay, but I was in too much pain to fight. He was angry, said that it was my fault because I didn't fall on it correctly... so, he sent me off to bed. Later that night, he came to see me... with some medicine for the pain.

What kind of medicine was it?

He apologized for being too hard on me and said it was some kind of painkiller... the pain was so bad, I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep and would get injured worse the next day... so, I just went ahead and took it. But, there was something... something wrong with it.

Was it a poison? Did it make you ill?

No... it made me really drowsy within a minute or two. Before I fell asleep, I remember thinking how weird it was that he was so insistent about rubbing my shoulder. He said that it would help it heal faster and that I would be fine by the next day... but before I could do anything, I fell asleep.

And?

...

Dick, do you want to stop?

(shaking)...all the sudden, I woke up a little... I could barely tell where I was... everything was spinning. But I realized that he... he was still there.

What was he doing?

(hyperventilating)...

Dick, it's okay-

(sobbing)...he had me... on the bed. He was... on top of me... and he... he was...

Oh my god...

(violent sobbing)...

It's okay, it's okay. Let's stop now-

...I... I j-just wanted him to s-stop... he... he s-said I would n-never have t-to be alone again...

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Two things:

1.) Stockholm Syndrome. Quite an interesting phenomenon- A captor or abuser using a cycle of abuse & kindness (whatever the kindness may be) in order to brainwash the victim into developing a companionship with the captor. "[Stockholm Syndrome] is partly based on Freudian theory. It suggests that the bonding is the individual's response to trauma in becoming a victim. Identifying with the aggressor is one way that the ego defends itself. When a victim believes the same values as the aggressor, they no longer become a threat." I believe that our Boy Wonder was on the brink of beginning to bond with Slade when _Apprentice Pt. II _ended. Had his stay with Slade gone on much longer, worse things could have resulted. From what we saw in the _Apprentice _era, in _Haunted, _and even during the Terra arc... and of course, after reading some really fabulous FF on here, Stockholm Syndrome seems to be quite apparent in terms of Slade's maneuvering. Keeping that in mind, rewatch the episodes I mentioned. They really gain some depth. ;)

2.) The slash-ish scene towards the end. I had considered this idea when I was writing this tale last summer, but I chickened out and dismissed it as too much on the dark side... No graphic detail of course, but you get the picture. Indeed, I am one of those who are convinced that some pretty horrible "things" happened during the apprenticeship... I mean, why else would Robin be as affected as he was by what happened? Of course, there are a number of (less despicable) reasons outside of slash, but I went with it... I know, I know, it's a kid's show, but still.

Thoughts?


	7. Rat

And, here is more!

* * *

**Rat**

_"I couldn't begin to tell you what terrible trigger for such insanity lies deep in my sub-conscious. Though no doubt some would say that, indeed, it may be some demon of conscience. A deeply buried guilt for some unforgivable depravity."_

* * *

Dick-

Dr. Wilkins. Please, please... remove these straps!

Dick, it's for your own protection. You tried to hurt your nurse.

...please, you're the only one who can help me.

(sighs) You know that I am always here to help you. But, unlocking your restraints will put you and everyone else in danger.

... (shrieking)

Dick, please calm down.

...p-please... that nurse, he was going to-

I know what happened, Dick. And he will be reprimanded. But, your responsibility here is _not_ to punish people who... make mistakes.

... (sobbing)

All of us, we are here to help you. We would never, ever hurt you. I promise.

...

Can we talk a little bit?

...only if you remove these straps.

I can't do that, but I would be willing to make a compromise.

...

Would you be willing to make a compromise with me?

...what kind of compromise?

I can't remove the straps, but I will loosen them so that you can sit up and talk to me.

(sighs)...fine.

(smiles) Good, you're thinking rationally... Is that a little better?

...I guess.

Dick, I hear that you've been seeing Slade again.

...no, I haven't.

I also... I want to apologize for forcing you to tell me about what Slade did to you. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. The fact that you're seeing him now, it's nothing to be ashamed of-

Dr. Wilkins. I haven't been seeing Slade.

The attendants noted it quite clearly in your chart. Why would they say that if it's not true?

...how the fuck should I know?

What has caused you to become so angry again?

I'm angry because I know what's really going on here.

...Dick, what are you talking about?

...all the talking. All the sessions. It's for your own, sick game. You want to see me squirm. You want to see me cry, scream about every single thing that has made me sad. You say doing that will make me better.

You think I was lying to you?

...I know everything. I know that you are all working for _him. _You were lying to me, just so you could keep me here...

Listen to me. Whatever he's been telling you, it's not real...

...

Dick, what are you...?

...

Oh my god. Dick, stop! STOP!

* * *

"Dr. Wilkins, what has come of the situation with Richard Grayson?"

Elaine suddenly snapped out of her daze. She was sitting in a conference with several other doctors from the sanitarium, reporting prominent patients' statuses to the board members and head doctors.

She hesitated, looking down at the file in front of her as all the doctors stared at her. "He... he made considerable progress when he first arrived here-"

Another doctor spoke up, looking awestruck. "Wait... Dick Grayson... isn't that Bruce Wayne's kid?"

The president of the board sighed exasperatedly, putting a hand up to silence the murmurs rippling through the room. "Anyway. Elaine, you were saying?"

She timidly looked down at the file in front of her, hesitating. "As I said, he made marked progress the first few weeks he was here. But-"

A chuckle. "Didn't he try to stab a nurse with a pen two days ago?" A haughty-looking doctor was sneering at her.

Elaine couldn't help but glare at him. "That certain nurse threatened to sedate him unnecessarily."

The doctor's cheeky grin widened. "Sedation is only used when it is _completely necessary..._ especially when the patient is a paranoid schizophrenic." He laughed.

Elaine smirked at him. "And how would you know that, Ted? You work exclusively with the patients who show nothing at all... who are in fact brain dead... doesn't sound like you're necessarily qualified to make that judgement."

Ted's face flushed a blotchy red, his nasty smile fading completely.

The board president cleared his throat louder than necessary, ending the bickering between the two doctors. "Elaine. How is the boy doing?"

She took a careful breath. "In the past few days, he has regressed at an alarming rate," She couldn't hide the shame the made her eyes burn. "And, I believe that his sudden regression could be my own fault." She admitted quietly.

The board members were suddenly silent. The board president eyed her, his expression conflicted. "How?"

Elaine closed her tired eyes, searching for words. "A week ago, he and I dove into a... an earlier trauma. A trauma that is, I believe, one of the main causes of his mental illness. We eventually got to the root of it, but unfortunately... he was frightened to the point that I regretted pushing him so hard..." She faded.

The room was completely still. All eyes were on her. "How is he at the present moment, Elaine?" The board president asked her softly.

She swallowed hard. "He is in solitary confinement right now. After attempting to injure a nurse, he managed to break his own arm trying to escape from his restraints during a session with me. He does not eat or sleep willingly."

"Like a rat in a cage..." Another doctor whispered.

The board president silenced the sniggering. "Elaine, what are your plans for recovery?"

She attempted to look confident, but only managed to look slightly less hopeless. "He's strayed from his path... but for now, I'm going to try some different types of therapies to snap him out of this, to get him going in the right direction again."

The board president nodded, and everyone rose from their seats.

As Elaine was getting her files and her belongings together, a kind-looking doctor casually walked over to her. "Hi, Elaine."

She smiled warmly at him. "Ben, hi!"

"Big case, huh."

Elaine frowned slightly. "Mr. Grayson's, you mean?"

Ben gave her a lopsided smile. "Who else?"

She sighed, nodding.

Ben looked at the floor awkwardly, eyeing some of the other doctors that were exiting the conference room. "What screwed up the kid so much? I mean, one minute he was working for Batman, the next, he's being thrown in the nuthouse."

Elaine couldn't stop the anger that made her eyes flash. "You know that I can't break doctor-patient confidentiality."

Ben rolled his eyes mockingly. "I'm not telling you to. Some of us are just curious as to how the hell this could have happened."

"Frankly, that's none of your damn business." Elaine spat at him.

"Elaine, I never meant-" Ben started, looking sheepish.

"And, I find it repulsive that doctors are snooping into something that does not concern them."

Ben sighed. "I apologize. I never meant to sound offensive."

Elaine's anger subsided. "Trust me when I say this... this young man is damaged as it is. It's bad enough that people are learning that Batman's protege has landed himself in a sanitarium... it would be much worse for Dick if those people learned why."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Indeed, these doctors are my own creations. Poor Ted, he got burned... :)

Yes, I said it... paranoid schizophrenia. Schizophrenia is one of the most interesting mental illnesses, in my opinion. It seems to be the only disorder that could describe our boy wonder's symptoms both in this story and in the original episode: The hallucinations, obviously, but also... the general paranoia & obsessiveness. Robin truly believes that the doctors are keeping him at the sanitarium because they work for Slade... who has been dead for a considerable amount of time... no, it doesn't make much sense... but, few delusions of paranoid schizophrenics make sense either.

With the addition of the previous chapter, Robin's regression seems to make a little bit more sense, in my opinion...

Thoughts?


	8. Death

With Slade's constant prodding and losing all hope, Robin is finally caving to it all... Has the time finally come for him to give up?

* * *

**Death **

_"It is acceptable, a fighter who is under attack chooses to die when faced with the inevitable prospect of death. How is it any different when you are under attack by your own mind?" _

* * *

Dick.

...

I know you're scared.

...

I know this is difficult to understand. But, talking will help you.

...

Dick, please.

...why?

Because I don't want to lose you.

...

Talk to me. What are you thinking?

...

Dick?

I want to die. That's what I'm thinking.

How long have you been thinking about this?

...

Dick. This is important. How long have you been thinking about dying?

...a while.

What has made you feel like you have no other options?

...everything.

That's a long list. Would you care to narrow it down for me?

Go to hell.

There's no reason for you to get angry with me. What has made you feel like you need to die?

Slade, you, the Titans, Bruce... everyone.

Has Slade been telling you that you should die?

No.

Has he been telling you that you have no other options-

No!

Then, why has he made you want to die?

...because I want him gone. I want him out of my head. He never gives me a moment's peace. He's always there.

Okay... how have I made you want to die?

...

Dick?

...same reason. You won't leave me alone.

Do you understand why I continue pestering you?

No, I don't.

Because talking about your hallucinations and everything you are feeling is going to help you. It has helped you make sense of a lot of things in the past, and I want to help you make sense of what's happening now.

Don't you get it?! Talking doesn't make a difference anymore! I still see Slade and deal with him all the time. I still hate everyone and everything! How has talking helped me?

Dick, I've told you in the past- when you take a big step forward, you sometimes have to take a few steps back.

Dr. Wilkins, I'm not getting better. I'm not improving.

I think all it is is that you've lost your hope for recovery.

...

Hope is an important thing.

...yeah right.

You don't believe in hope anymore?

...no, I don't.

You have to remember-

...why can't you just let me go?

Because I'm your doctor, Dick. If I let you die, I wouldn't be doing my job.

...your job is to make me better. I would be better if I was dead.

* * *

Robin was flying, flying, flying.

Every graceful flip through the air. The nimble grip he had on the trapeze bar.

His eyes were closed. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The sheer excitement of flight. Of doing something a normal person was not supposed to do.

He felt as though he could do anything all the way up there. Nothing could stop him.

Suddenly, a voice whispered in his ear. "Careful. You almost didn't make that last backflip."

Fear made his stomach coil. Suddenly, his muscles were not so sure of what they were doing.

Before he knew what was happening, he completed another graceful flip.

His fingers missed the trapeze bar by millimeters.

Robin was falling, falling, falling.

He heard screams from people below.

He desperately looked up at the trapeze platform. Instead of the fleeting comfort of seeing his parents, Slade stood on the platform, his one eye gleaming with delight.

Robin closed his eyes, ready for the impact. Ready to die.

He hit the ground, but he felt no bones breaking. No blood. Not at all like the painful scene he witnessed on that fateful night as a young child.

He looked up. His father was standing in front of him.

Robin, seemingly unharmed, got up and leaped towards his father, his heart racing with joy.

John Grayson moved out of Robin's reach, his expression cold.

Robin froze. He realized that something was wrong. This was no longer the free-spirited, kind man Robin knew. His face was aged, tired, gaunt, his hair overtaken by gray.

John stepped forward. "Look at what you have done to yourself."

Robin looked down at his hands.

Instead of athletic tape to aid his trapeze work, there were straps and chains covering his hands and wrists.

Instead of the lightweight, colorful circus uniform he had been wearing before, he was wearing his old, soiled pajamas from the hospital.

"You are not my son. You are not the boy I raised. You are nothing. You are dead to me." He growled.

Robin sank to his knees, his eyes desperately looking up into his father's. "Dad..." He whispered, tears threatening to break.

"Dick."

Robin's breath caught in his throat. The tall, caped man in black standing in front of him was no longer his father.

"Bruce..." He breathed.

His expression was just as cold and unforgiving as John's. "You have lost your mind, your sanity, everything to one measly villain that you could _never _stop. You are a pathetic failure."

Robin put his head in his hands, sobbing. "Bruce, please..." He whispered.

"Robin, don't you get it?"

Robin looked up, knowing the deep, evil voice all too well.

"No one wants you here." Slade said softly. He was not smiling mockingly. His one visible eye was full of hatred. "You have no friends. No family. Even in your dreams, your own father is disgusted by you. You are dead to _everyone_."

Robin was screaming.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

It's definitely not over, despite the finality... Please review!


	9. Regression

My audition music for ensemble placement just came out this morning, so I'm trying desperately to get this finished within the next day so that I can practice the damned music for all hours of the day without any distractions...

* * *

**Regression **

_"I watched the black ocean in his eyes and saw this flash behind them and understood... He was not so far gone as to be lost, but he was close. Whether I wanted to or not, I anchored him to this world. I inhaled sharply at the wildness I saw in him, the despair that was threatening to rise." _

* * *

"Dr. Wilkins, he's regressed into almost a completely catatonic state. There is nothing more we can do for him here. We are a rehabilitative mental health facility, not a stagnant asylum for brain dead-"

"His mind is not gone." Elaine glared at the board president. Her eyes were surrounded by dark circles, her face lined with worry. "I believe he can still come out of this."

"When?" The man asked her incredulously. "Elaine, you can't predict the future. Hell, if people could predict the future, we probably wouldn't have mental patients any longer. You can't possibly tell me that you are positive that he will recover."

Elaine looked down sadly. "No, I can't." She paused. "But, if we give up on him now, we are enabling him to never recover."

The man frowned, looking into her face. "Elaine, you look terrible."

She gave a sheepish grin. "That's what happens when I'm spending hours upon hours researching and doing everything I can to help my one patient."

The doctor nodded. "You really think you can make him snap out of it?"

She nodded slowly. "I've been gathering some ideas to help him."

"Would you care to enlighten me with those ideas?"

Elaine hesitated. "Glenn, I really believe he is attempting to repress everything in his life that makes him who and what he is. Every good memory and thought in his life seems to have an association with something negative. Especially after bringing some particularly traumatic events to light, he is desperate to get as far away from those traumas as possible."

Glenn nodded slowly.

Elaine continued. "Despite how necessary it has been to extract him from his normal life, I can't help but wonder if... perhaps, a visitor could help... remind him of who he is."

The doctor instantly shook his head, his expression cold. "Absolutely not. Do you know how much of a risk this could be? I mean, he could regress further, he could have a complete breakdown, he could become violent and hurt his friends and family-"

"Glenn, he's lost right now." Elaine said softly. "Like a sheep without his flock. He only needs someone, something to remind him to begin making his way back. He's lost all hope in himself. A visitor from his past life could help him remember that he has to continue _living_."

After a moment, Glenn finally gave a glum nod. "You are to have no less than three attendants there, ready in case something goes wrong. I don't want to hear about some patient killing his friends in an attempt to escape, and then receive notification that our facility is being sued."

Frowning at his blunt honesty, Elaine nodded.

Glenn's expression softened. "Elaine, I want him to recover, just as much as you do. But if he's still not responding to treatment within two weeks, then we are sending him to Arkham."

Elaine shuddered.

* * *

Dick.

...

I know you're listening. I know you can hear me.

...

I know you don't want to talk. But, could you please say _something_? Just so that I know you're here with me?

...

Fine. I'll do the talking then. I know what all this silence is about.

...

You are trying your damnedest to repress everything you know, everything you are. You are sick of the pain, so you're trying to completely eliminate every possible source of pain in its entirety.

...

I know we've tried so many different types of therapies. I can understand if you're sick of all my pestering. But, I'm not ready to give up on you.

...you remind me of my mom.

Really. Why is that?

...you just do. You're so determined, like she was.

You say that like it's a bad thing.

...don't you get it? Trying to make me better is so pointless.

Why?

You and I both know that I'm never going to get better. I don't even want to get better anymore.

...you haven't told me this. What has made you feel this way?

...

So, you are willing to take comfort in being considered crazy?

...no.

Then, what has made you decide to give up?

...

Dick. I can't help you if you won't talk to me.

...I've tried. You've tried. We've both tried so much, and it's gotten me nowhere. Slade is still here. I still see and hear things that aren't real. I'm never going to get better. I'm sorry.

...

...Dr. Wilkins-

I will not stand for you apologizing for something that is not your fault. Do you understand me?

...

(sighs) I'm going to be honest with you. My boss is threatening to go over my head and send you to Arkham if you don't make progress sometime soon. I've fought this as much as possible, but at this point... fighting this isn't going to help me... or you, for that matter.

...

So, I have one last idea for treatment. If it doesn't work, then fine. I give you permission to give up on yourself. I won't pester you anymore. But, I just want to try this one thing. Is that okay with you?

...

Tomorrow morning, I'm bringing in someone very special. I really think it will help you tremendously.

...

It's settled then. (leaves)

...

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Who could it be? Batman? One of the Titans? Alfred? Please review!


	10. Indulgence

This turned out vastly different than I had intended even a just few hours ago. I'm still shocked by it...

* * *

**Indulgence **_  
_

___"The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body."_

* * *

The next morning, Robin was jostled awake by two burly attendants. Carefully, they unlocked the leather straps that restrained him to the bed.

He yawned and stretched out his sore limbs. He cringed with pain when he touched the sensitive areas of skin where the leather straps had been bound- they were chaffed, scabbed, and raw.

Without any explanation, the two attendants hoisted him up by the shoulders and dragged him out of the room.

His eyes fixed on the floor, the boy said nothing, not even attempting to walk on his own.

He clenched his eyes shut, imagining they were taking him to the gallows to finally be hanged.

_Maybe this will all finally be over..._

Instead, the attendants brought him into a bathroom. One of the men left, the other pulled soap and other shower essentials out of a paper bag and handed them to Robin.

Before the attendant led him over to the shower stalls, Robin looked into a dirty mirror.

A sallow-skinned, sickly-looking face stared back at him.

Though he knew had been relatively thin before he arrived at the hospital, the amount of weight he had lost was horrifying. The gaunt angles of his cheekbones jutted out from his translucent skin. Dark circles surrounded his sunken, gray eyes.

_I look like I'm already dead..._

The attendant respectfully waited as the boy was unable to tear his eyes away from his wasted reflection before gently leading him to the shower.

Robin looked up at him, grimly expecting him to insist upon standing in front of the open shower to make sure he didn't try to do anything desperate in his naked state.

Instead, the man gave him a nod and casually went over to a chair by the sinks.

It had been a few weeks since he had been allowed to take a shower without the watchful eyes of an attendant... or Slade, for that matter.

Feeling lighter, Robin peeled off his soiled pajamas. He turned on the faucets, the hot water screeching before rushing out. He allowed himself to smile, indulging in the rare treat that was a private shower.

* * *

After going back to his room to find a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt as well as a tray of hot food waiting for him, Robin was in good spirits when Dr. Wilkins arrived.

She couldn't help but smile at the boy when she walked in.

He looked clean and happy, and his face had gained some healthy color after eating a wholesome meal.

"You're looking better." She said, patting his shoulder gently.

He didn't smile back, but he nodded slightly, still finishing the last few bites of his mashed potatoes.

Elaine sat in one of the chairs, hesitating. "Dick, do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

He chewed thoughtfully. "mm... 'bout what?"

"I told you I was going to bring an important visitor to see you today."

_Ah, that's what all this is about._

He looked down, his expression hard.

Elaine's smile faded when she saw him withdrawing. "Look at me."

Like a trained dog, he obediently looked up at her.

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

He looked away, clearly not convinced.

"Dick," Elaine said sharply.

He looked up into her eyes, his expression timid.

"Do you trust me?" She asked him softly.

He said nothing, but finally nodded.

She smiled. "Good," She got up from her chair and left, presumably to fetch the whoever the important person was.

_Probably some highly decorated doctor, only here to analyze me like some crazed monkey in a cage..._

Robin's throat burned with anger, knowing he had been foolish to hope for something good to finally happen.

He closed his eyes, thinking.

_How do I get out of this?_

He nonchalantly picked up a small piece of broccoli with his fork. He knew he had only a few seconds.

_Fork._

The attendant in the room was reading a magazine, not paying any attention.

_Idiot._

Robin's lips curled into a dark, manic smile.

Without warning, he jumped on the man and shoved the fork into his throat.

The attendant's eyes boggled with shock and pain, spluttering and gasping as blood spurted from his throat.

Robin leaped for the door. It was, to his relief, unlocked.

He felt like he was flying at full speed, his heart racing with fear and excitement.

He sprinted down the hallways, looking for any exit signs. Every inch of his body was quivering with terror.

His heart leaped when he found a door with a red exit sign over it.

Sprinting, running, for his life it seemed.

"Robin?"

He froze.

The kind attendant who had cared for him his first few days in the hospital was staring at him, a bewildered expression in his dark eyes.

His eyes widened when he saw Robin's thin hands covered in blood.

His trembling hands pulled out a walkie-talkie from his belt. "Lance, we have a situation in the south wing. I need help."

The attendant, not breaking eye contact, slowly crept towards the boy. "Robin, can you tell me what happened?"

_He's probably working for him. He's working for Slade._

With a violent shriek, Robin charged forward and plunged the fork into the attendant's throat.

The man crumpled to the floor, his dark eyes terrified, sad.

"You deserve to die." Robin growled, standing over his writhing body as blood spurted from the man's mangled throat.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind, pinning him down to the floor.

As he screamed, a needle was shoved into the side of his neck.

The world went black.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Even I'm reeling from this one... Thanks TSRowenwood for your most-helpful thoughts. ;) Please review!


	11. Darkness

I can imagine you're still freaked out from the last chapter. Just wait.

So, some of you might be confused because you were probably notified last night that I had put up two more chapters that are no longer here... or, you might have even read those two unfortunate chapters. At 1:30am and desperately needing sleep, I was pleased because I thought I had presented a good, warm-hearted ending to this tale. I got up today, re-read it, and thought, "No. Frikking. Way."- it was so _lame_, and I was clearly taking the easy way out. So, here is a different (better) take.

* * *

**Darkness **

_"Pulled into the darkness by invisible illusions, the world is blinded by the depth of dreams; wasting away the hours in the cradle of insanity."_

* * *

His entire world slipped away from him.

He didn't dream, all consciousness consumed by a void of darkness.

His body felt unbearably sluggish. Every time he began to wake up, he fell back into the darkness.

He knew, deep down, that his doctors had finally sent him to Arkham.

Arkham.

He could recall sending criminals there when he worked with Batman... their clear, violent insanity would never do in prison.

Every so often, he felt the sensation of someone spoon feeding him some kind of mushy food and giving him water from a ladle.

His body was tense and tight. The bed he was on felt like a wooden board, and his wrists and ankles were tightly restrained to it in all its discomfort.

After the incident at the hospital, he had no idea what had happened or what actions had been taken.

All he knew was the pain, regret, sadness, and shame he felt.

He knew in his mind that what he had done was terrible, murderous even. Unforgivable.

He knew he deserved to be locked up forever. Too dangerous for people, too dangerous for himself.

In all the time of his mental sickness, he had never wanted so much for death to finally take him away to the darkest depths of the world.

* * *

As the days went by, Robin finally began to understand his surroundings.

Indeed, he was in Arkham.

He was in a solitary confinement cell, in Arkham. No visitors, no windows, no lights, constant restraints and constant sedation.

He had a doctor, but the doctor clearly didn't care about making him better, at least mentally. The doctor's only purpose was to make sure that Robin wasn't physically ill.

_Not sick, just a psychopath._

Every hopeful feeling he had ever retained in the old hospital was replaced by a feeling of hate, betrayal, and anger.

He gave up on everything he had ever known, everything that he loved and cherished. His parents, Batman, Alfred, the Titans...

They were all delusions.

He didn't want to suffer the pain of this harsh reality any longer.

He knew he would die in this terrible place, and he only wished for the time to come faster.

* * *

His eyes snapped open.

Despite the silence and complete darkness in the room, he felt strangely afraid. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. A thud, just outside his door.

He barely breathed, his body trembling with fear.

The door swung open.

The strong light from the hallway hit his eyes like hot pokers. He screamed, his temples aching terribly.

A dark, ominous figure slowly moved into the room.

"Someone... please, please help me..." Robin moaned, hoping an attendant would save him from whatever was here to hurt him.

Then suddenly, a voice clearly spoke to him.

"Hello, Dick."

That voice.

He knew that voice.

Robin, knowing but not completely believing who it was, squinted up at the figure to see a tall, muscular, caped man covered in black.

"Bruce...?" Robin croaked.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Holy good timing, Batman! Please review!


	12. Breaking

This chapter is a little short, but hooray for escapes!

* * *

**Breaking**

_"The best things often happen when we least expect it."_

* * *

Robin's face fell in shock.

Ignoring him, Bruce went to the bed and hastily began unlocking the many straps restraining Robin tightly against the bed.

Robin was frozen, staring at his rescuer in awe.

Bruce let out a frustrated sigh. "Dick, we have literally seconds. Can you move a little bit and help me?"

Snapping out of his shocked daze, Robin nodded and began unhooking some of the restraints.

Ample amounts of blood were trickling from his mangled wrists, the skin almost completely rubbed down to the bone.

"Come on," Bruce murmured, edging his way out the door.

Robin followed, his heart racing. "Bruce, how-"

Batman put a hand up, silencing him immediately. "Later." He whispered.

As Batman sprinted effortlessly through the maze of hallways, Robin winced as he limped along. His once perfectly toned muscles were wasted from months of awkward tension and lack of use.

To Bruce's relief, they encountered no guards or attendants as they escaped.

Eventually, they reached the roof of the dark building. Bruce pulled out a grappling hook, getting ready to release it at a misshapen, dead tree below.

"I'm going to go down first to make sure the coast is clear. I'll throw the grappling hook back up, and you can come down, too."

Robin looked at the ground, his eyes wide with fear. "Bruce, I... I don't know if I can do that." He was panting with the effort of standing.

Bruce noticed his weakening body and gave a nod. "Fine."

He gently hoisted the boy up, holding onto him with one arm, the other arm holding onto the grappling hook.

Excited relief rushed through Robin's veins as they flew down through the crisp, night air towards the ground.

Without looking back, they left the terrible place that was Arkahm.

* * *

Bruce was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, reading a book.

Alfred came into the sitting room. "Sir, dinner is ready."

Bruce nodded and went to the dining room. There were two places set.

"Master Dick is still asleep. Shall I wake him?"

Bruce shook his head, sitting down in one of the chairs. "No... that kid needed sleep in the worst kind of way."

Alfred nodded, pausing as he set a steak and mashed potatoes on Bruce's plate. "Sir... may I ask what the place was like?"

Bruce smirked at the man, chuckling at his curiosity. "Curious, are you?"

Alfred's expression was grim. "Was it that terrible?"

Bruce's smile faded as he dug his fork into the steak. "Alfred, I've thrown so many criminals into that place without a second thought. After seeing what that place did to Dick, I... I can't help but feel kind of..."

"Guilty?" Alfred's eyes were quizzical.

Rolling his eyes at the man's mocking smile, Bruce nodded as he chewed.

Alfred looked away, his eyes sad. "He was only there for ten days, wasn't he?"

"Nine." Bruce corrected.

Alfred nodded. "In addition to infected wounds, Master Dick also has quite noticeable scarring on his wrists and ankles. The scars seem to be relatively... old."

Bruce frowned, setting his fork down. "That's strange."

Alfred's expression darkened. "Perhaps, Arkham was not the place that did all the damage...?"

Bruce's eyes widened.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Get ready for some serious fun in the next chapter!

Thoughts?


	13. Trace

Time for some Batman butt-kicking!

* * *

**Trace**

_"The love a parent has for a child, there's nothing else like it. No other love so consuming."_

* * *

"What the _hell_ did you do to my son?"

Bruce was at the sanitarium in Jump City, in Glenn Owens' office.

Glenn glared at him. "What did we do to him? Mr. Wayne, he violently assaulted three of my staff. I should be the one asking that question-"

Bruce had the man up against a wall, hoisting him up by the shirt collar. "If you don't start giving me real answers, you're going to lose a lot more than those fancy diplomas there." He growled, gesturing at the doctor's framed diplomas on the wall.

The doctor smirked at him as Bruce released him. "Perhaps I understand now where the boy gets all his anger from."

Bruce gave him a glare as cold as death.

The man tsked. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

Bruce's expression was livid. "Scars. He has scarring all over his hands, wrists, and ankles. How did they get there? Judging by how they healed, he didn't get them at Arkham... which we _will _talk about momentarily. Tell me. How did he get the scars?"

Glenn was silent.

Bruce was in his face, his eyes flashing. "I specifically told you that I did not want him put under restraint. Considering that you didn't obey that order, I'm guessing there are other things you did without my permission."

Glenn's expression was venomous. "You said you wanted my staff to help him." He paused. "Are you aware that he broke his own arm trying to escape? That he said many times he wanted to die? That he found crude, desperate ways to hurt others? Mr. Wayne, we restrained him for his own safety-"

Bruce lost all control over his anger. "And, I told you, DID I NOT, that if it ever came to that, you were to call me immediately. Did you do that?" He spat.

Glenn's hardened expression fell. "We simply did what you asked. We believed that the necessary actions we took were in Mr. Grayson's best interest. We thought we were... helping him."

Bruce calmly looked at his palm, as if he was reading notes. "So, what do we have here... kidnapping, assault, child abuse, withholding a person against his will, disregarding parental consent...? You've got quite a list of offenses here, Glenn."

Glenn shook his head frantically. "Mr. Wayne, everything we did was for Mr. Grayson's own good. We did nothing illegal-"

Bruce stared at him, flabbergasted. "You're a lying bastard. You intercepted the call that night. How else could you have gotten word-"

Glenn smirked at him. "We received reports from police officers that night. They had considered arresting the boy for tearing apart that abandoned warehouse, but... we instructed them not to, considering who he was and what was happening to him.

"We never took him against his will. We simply arrived at their tower before you could... interfere." He purred. "You called us, yes. And, you told us you wanted us to try to help him. I regret restraining him without your..." He paused, his lip curling maliciously. "Permission... but, my staff was at risk. Before you go making any threats, Mr. Wayne, do consider the other sides of the situation."

Bruce closed his eyes, trying to control his anger. "Then tell me," He asked softly. "Why you never called me after carting his ass off to Arkham?"

Glenn sneered at him. "That was never part of your instructions. We felt sending him to Arkham could _help_ him."

Bruce was silent, staring at the floor.

"Mr. Wayne," Glenn's expression was triumphant with victory. "I apologize for any injuries Mr. Grayson has sustained. We only wanted to..." Glenn faded as Bruce pulled out several pieces of paper.

He unfolded them carefully. "Explain this to me, then." He said softly, his expression dark.

Glenn frowned at the papers. "Test results. For what?"

A nasty smile played at Bruce's lips. "Glad you asked. See here?" He pointed at a column. "I found traces of a rare type of dlysergic acid diethylamide in his system when I brought him back with me. Extremely potent, deadly in some cases, since it usually doesn't show up in routine drug testing." Bruce gently folded up the piece of paper. "It piqued my curiosity. I knew the Titans had taken samples of his fluids the night this all started," He paused. "So, I retested those fluids. Interestingly, they tested positive for the same hallucinogen that was in his system when he came back a few days ago."

Glenn was silent, his face falling.

Bruce's smile widened. "I knew that the hallucinogen couldn't have possibly stayed in his system for months on end. So, I took the clothes that he had been wearing at your hospital and ran some tests..." Bruce said delicately. "Strangely, I found the same exact dust in the fibers of his clothes."

Glenn looked away from the man, his face pale.

Bruce was narrowing his eyes. "Even more strange... after I did some investigating at Arkham this morning, I found that they have literally zero traces of such a drug."

Bruce suddenly got in Glenn's face, his smile deadly. "So Glenn, I figured that there could be only one other place he could have picked up the dust."

"You... you can't prove anything." Glenn croaked.

Bruce smirked at him. "You don't think so?" He paused, looking around the office. "I did some digging on you and your hospital. I was kind of shocked when I found information connecting you with Slade Wilson."

Glenn's breath caught in his throat.

Bruce continued, relishing in the man's apparent fear. "I found out that you did some work with Slade involving the nanoscopic probes that he used to control the Titans, and Dick. I also found out that you never got your reward for doing so, since my son took the bastard down before he could pay you for your services."

Glenn swallowed, his expression desperate.

Bruce peered into his face, his expression murderous. "You never wanted to help my son. You only wanted _revenge_." He said softly.

Suddenly, a police officer burst into the office, handcuffs at the ready.

Bruce was inches from Glenn's face. Their eyes locked. "You screw with my son, you screw with me." He whispered.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

So, the name, Glenn Owens... Glenn comes from my infamous orchestra director. He is not a pleasant man... obviously, neither is the terrible Glenn Owens!

This was one of the most fun chapters to write. Hope you enjoyed it! Please review.


	14. T

I couldn't think of a good, clever name for this chapter, so I decided on one appropriate letter. Enjoy!

* * *

**T**

_"That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable."_

* * *

After arriving home, Bruce went upstairs from the Batcave to find Wayne Manor empty.

Not completely empty.

Robin was sitting outside on the patio, sipping a glass of iced tea while reading a book.

Bruce silently stood away from his view, staring into the boy's distorted face.

After a few healthy meals and plentiful sleep, color was returning to Robin's ghostly complexion. But, his paled eyes, gaunt cheekbones, and stick-like arms made it clear that only rest, training, and time would bring him back to his normal, fit self.

Bruce casually poured himself a glass of iced tea and strolled outside.

Robin looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"Where's Alfred?" Bruce asked after sitting, crunching on a cookie.

"He left to run some errands and pick some things up at the grocery store."

Bruce smirked. "Always prepared, that man is."

Robin fidgeted, awkwardly picking at a fingernail. "I guess I... uh, never thanked you for getting me out of Arkham." He said quietly, his eyes glued to the ground.

Bruce was silent, not sure what to say to the boy.

Robin's expression was forlorn, sad. "I... I'm glad you got me out of there when you did. I don't know what would have happened if I was in there much longer..."

Bruce suddenly shook his head, his expression grim. "Dick, you never belonged in Arkham. If I had known sooner, I would have stopped them before they even considered sending you there..."

Robin stared at his hands, his expression terrified. "...Bruce, I stabbed two people."

Bruce nodded. "I know. Both men are relatively unharmed, by the way. But, you should know..." He paused, taking a reassuring breath. "You were never in the sanitarium in Jump City to recover."

Robin stared at his mentor, his eyes wide. "...what are you talking about?"

Bruce looked away, anger flashing in his eyes. "I never asked for them to take you away."

Robin stared at him, his mouth almost agape. He wasn't sure how to respond. "Explain." He finally croaked.

Bruce shifted nervously in his chair. "I got the call from Raven and Cyborg the night your hallucinations began. The Titans were... very concerned. They didn't know what to do to help you. I told them that I would come get you and would take you here-"

"Wait, you were going to-"

Bruce put a hand up, silencing him. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I will admit, I wasn't entirely sure how to handle what was happening. I called the hospital, but I never, ever instructed them to go to Titans Tower to take you in. I only wanted to talk to a doctor so that I could get some idea of how to help you myself.

"And, they gave my call to one of the head doctors, in fact. I talked to him and explained what happened." Bruce looked away, his expression softening. "By the time Alfred and I had gotten to the Tower, the hospital attendants had already taken you away. The Titans thought I had decided to send you with them and... so, they didn't object."

Robin looked down, tears threatening to break.

_They had already given up on me..._

"Dick..." Bruce looked at him, his eyes sad. "They only did what they thought I had instructed. If they had known what was really happening, they would have never allowed those bastards to take you away... you have no idea how much they still regret making that mistake."

Robin's expression was still conflicted. "Bruce, they really thought I was crazy. That's why they called you." He whispered.

Bruce shook his head. "They were overwhelmed. They knew they were losing you, but they had no idea how to help you."

Robin sighed, nodding. "So, I was taken to the sanitarium without anyone's consent. Why didn't you get me out?"

Bruce looked down, shame in his eyes. He was silent for a moment. "As angry as I was with what they had done, I... I hoped maybe they could help you." He said softly.

Robin stared at him, his eyes wide with revulsion. "You _let them _keep me there? You, you-"

"Dick," Bruce silenced him, his voice low with emotion. "I know it was a mistake, but I... I had no idea how to help you, either. I had hoped that having you stay there be more beneficial..."

Robin looked away from him, his chest heaving with sadness.

_You abandoned me._

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder, his expression anguished. "I'm so sorry."

Robin took a breath, calming himself. "You said... you figured out that I was never there to recover. What do you mean?"

Bruce's expression hardened. "Dick, everything they did to you... it was never right."

Robin glanced at the healing scabs on his wrists. "They did those things to protect me." He mumbled.

Bruce shook his head. "No, they didn't. Dick, did you ever meet the head doctor... Glenn Owens was his name...?"

Confused, Robin frowned at him. "No. What does that-"

"Glenn Owens used to be connected with Slade."

Robin's breath caught in his throat.

Bruce nodded, his expression dark. "I did some research on that place. Took some digging, but yes. Glenn Owens worked for Slade. He was one of the doctors who helped him develop the probes that he infected the Titans with."

Robin said nothing, his eyes horrified and lost.

Bruce sighed angrily. "Almost immediately after I figured it all out, I went to the sanitarium to get you out. I was livid when I learned that you had been sent to Arkham without my consent."

Robin looked up into his eyes. "Bruce, do you think I'm crazy?" He whispered.

For the first time, Bruce smiled at him. "No, I don't. I think you should also know... there were traces of a hallucinogen in your blood sample. It wasn't the type one would normally look for, which was why the Titans didn't find it when your hallucinations began."

Robin stared at him, flabbergasted. "But, I saw Slade when I was still in the hospital. A hallucinogen couldn't have stayed in my system for that long-"

Bruce's smile twisted into a grimace. "There were traces of the same hallucinogen in the clothes that you were wearing when I brought you here. The bastards had probably been throwing the dust in everything you touched while you were there."

Robin stared at his hands, feeling like he was floating. "Bruce, you... you're telling me that none it was ever real... that..." He paused, searching for the right words. "That I was never really sick?"

Bruce slowly nodded at the boy, his eyes full of pity.

Robin was silent.

_I'm not crazy..._

Sighing, Bruce left to go inside the large mansion without any explanation.

Robin frowned.

_Always so distant..._

As he was about to get up to go back inside, Bruce came back out with something small clasped in his hand.

He sat down. "The Titans trusted that I would help you..." He said softly, setting a small, yellow device on the table.

There was a large T on the front of it.

Robin's Titan communicator.

Bruce stared at the device. "I promised them I would have you call them as soon as you were feeling better..." He paused, gently pushing it over to Robin. "Though it's a little late, how about giving them a call?"

A small smile played at Bruce's lips.

With no hesitation, Robin took the device and pressed the red button, his eyes already watering.

On the device's screen, the familiar living room of Titans Tower came into view, all the titans sitting on the couch.

They said nothing for a moment, shock present in all their faces.

"Robin?" Starfire murmured, her eyes wide with wonder.

A beautiful, joyful smile made his gaunt face light up. "Hey, guys."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

He's going back to his beloved Titans! And, speaking of communicators... I'm tickled because I put the Titans Communicator ringtone on my phone. Hooray for text message notifications! Please review!


	15. Hope

Whaaat? Yeah, I thought I was done with this thing... but, I got to thinking about the ending, and decided to do some more. Here are some answers, some Robin/Raven one-on-one time (even though I'm anti Robin/Raven...), and happiness.

* * *

**Hope**

_"It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart."_

* * *

A masked boy sat on the roof of the familiar T-shaped tower.

He stared at the glowing horizon. The brightening sky was just beginning to become tinged with gold.

He smiled softly as a gentle morning breeze tickled his pale skin.

_Finally, a new day._

He felt good, ready, agile in his crisp, traffic light-colored uniform. Looking down at his still aching wrists, his smiled faded. The wrappings around his wrists were too thick for his gloves to fit over his hands. He closed his eyes, willing the recent events to not enter his mind's eye.

"You still are obsessed with sunrises...?"

Thankful for the distraction, he smiled slightly as Raven carefully sat down beside him.

"It's the best part of the day." He marveled, focusing his attention on the rising sun again.

Her eyebrow arched mischievously. "Sure, just like the daily breakfast explosions..."

Robin laughed at her sarcasm. "Believe it or not, I missed that..." He said nostalgically, looking down at his hands again.

She looked out at the glowing horizon, her dark eyes solemn. "You've been very quiet since you've been back."

He was silent, gently picking at the wrappings around his wrists. "I'm just... nervous to be back." He mumbled.

She was silent, her expression piteous. "Robin... what happened?" She whispered, not looking at him.

He closed his eyes. "A... lot."

She eyed his bandaged wrists. "Like what?"

He sighed, the blinding white of the sun finally beginning to peak over the horizon.

* * *

"So, how did you get out?" Raven asked him, urging him to continue.

He sighed hesitantly. "It's... complicated."

Raven stared at him, her dark eyes fearful. "What happened?"

He closed his eyes, trying to find the courage to admit what he had done.

_I did terrible, unforgivable things._

"The day it happened, my doctor told me that someone was going to visit me... some famous doctor, I'm guessing. She left me alone with a nurse while I was eating, and I... I..." He faded.

_She would hate me if she knew what I did._

"I found a way to escape while she was gone." He finally whispered, feeling cowardly.

Raven looked down, her dark eyes troubled.

"What is it?" Robin asked her tentatively, noticing her conflicted expression.

_Please, don't ask..._

She licked her lips, taking a careful breath. "We... we received a call from a doctor. She asked for one of us to come to the hospital to see you."

All breath left Robin's chest, his eyes widening.

Her expression darkened. "Starfire was the one who went. She came back that day and said... there was some sort of problem, that she wasn't allowed to see you."

_Oh. My. God._

Robin put his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

"Robin?" Raven asked him cautiously, concerned. "What is it?"

He couldn't say anything. He painfully swallowed the bile rising into his throat.

"Raven, I did something... something horrible." He whispered.

* * *

The doorbell rang.

Alfred slowly made his way into the foyer, wondering who would arrive so early in the morning.

His eyes widened when he opened the door to find Robin standing awkwardly over the threshold.

"Master Dick!" Alfred said, ushering the boy into the house. "To what do I owe this early visit?"

Robin smiled warmly. "Sorry to come unannounced, Alfred. I... I need to talk to Bruce."

Alfred nodded, leading the boy into the adjacent sitting room. "I shall fetch Master Bruce. Would you like any breakfast?"

Robin shook his head. "No, thanks." He said, his smile slowly fading.

Alfred left with a nod and headed upstairs. He returned a few minutes later with a tired-eyed Bruce.

"Dick," He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Glad to see you, but isn't this a little early?"

Robin rolled his eyes at his mentor, smiling. "A few days ago, you were waking me up at the crack of dawn for training. Stopped that, I see?"

Bruce grinned. "With you gone, I get extra beauty sleep." He chuckled sarcastically, gesturing for Robin to sit on the sofa.

Robin's smile faded. "Bruce, the reason I'm here..." He nervously picked at the wrappings on his wrists. "I was talking to Raven this morning, and... I'm not totally convinced that _all_ the doctors at the mental health clinic in Jump City were out to... hurt me."

Bruce frowned at him. "Why's that?"

Robin took a tentative breath. "The doctor who talked to me the most. Dr. Wilkins. She had arranged with the Titans for one of them to come see me."

Bruce ran his hand through his hair, shock present in his eyes. "So, why didn't that happen?"

Robin was silent for a moment. "It was the day that they sent me to Arkham. Starfire was at the hospital when I tried to escape."

Bruce looked into his eyes. "So... what are you saying, Dick?"

"I'm saying... I don't think she was a part of everything they did. I think she really was trying to help me." Robin said softly.

Bruce's expression was conflicted. "Dick, all the doctors from that hospital are either in jail or have lost their licenses to practice."

Robin thought for a moment. "Can't her license be given back to her?"

Bruce smiled grimly. "It's not that simple... You know that."

Robin slowly nodded, his eyes hopeless.

Bruce heaved a sigh. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

A middle-aged woman with light brown hair was sitting on a park bench, reading a book.

Her tired eyes were sad, depressed. Her shoulder-length hair was streaked with strands of gray.

As she reached another chapter in her book, a thin, lanky youth sat down next to her. His t-shirt and jeans were faded, his black hair untidy.

She continued reading, paying him no mind.

"Dr. Wilkins?" The boy said softly.

Annoyed, she looked up at him.

Almost immediately, her face fell, her mouth dropping open in shock. "...Dick?"

Robin smiled at her, his blue eyes shining.

She smiled brightly. "My goodness... how are you?"

"Pretty good, actually." He said softly, his smile fading. "How are you doing?"

She couldn't hide her also fading smile. "Well, after all that happened at the hospital..."

Robin nodded knowingly. "Bruce told me about it."

"Well, I've decided I'm going to try and get a teaching certificate from the university."

Robin looked down guiltily. "We... we were going to try to make sure you got your license back."

She smiled at him, her eyes warm. "As much as I would like that, I think I want to try the teaching scene. I appreciate the thought, though."

Robin nodded, still looking shameful. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

Elaine shook her head, smiling reassuringly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have known what they were doing... The way your hallucinations were coming and going, I should have known that it was something external."

"It's okay..." He said, feeling awkward.

"So, did Bruce Wayne take you back to his home after the fiasco at the clinic?" She asked him curiously.

Robin stared at her. "...I was sent to Arkham." He said softly.

Her face paled as she shuddered. "They... oh my god, Glenn didn't say that..." She stammered. "He said Bruce came for you."

Robin grimaced angrily. "He did... after I was in Arkham for 9 days."

There were tears in her eyes. "Dick... I'm so, so sorry."

He shook his head reassuringly. "It's fine. I'm just glad that Dr. Owens is in jail."

Elaine nodded, pausing thoughtfully. "Have you... had any more hallucinations since you were at the clinic?"

Robin grinned at her concern. "Nope."

She smiled warmly. "Good."

Robin was silent for a moment. "I think Slade is finally gone... forever."

There were tears in her eyes as she reached over and hugged him.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

I began this story the week I was studying for a teaching certification exam... Just found out last Friday that not only did I pass, but I did best on the writing subtest, of course. :) Thank you in advance for your kind reviews.


	16. Epilogue

And, here is an epilogue! A word of caution to you psychology-types out there... I may or may not have my facts/ terms quite right. Just give me a break for at least trying my hand at it!

* * *

**Epilogue**_  
_

_"You're someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that, in my view, is a serious illness. It causes neurosis, psychosis, and paranoia. It's a distortion of nature, it goes against God's laws, for in all the world's woods and forests, he did not create a single leaf the same as another. People go against nature because they lack the courage to be different, and then the organism starts to produce Vitriol, or bitterness, as this poison is more commonly known."_

* * *

"Every individual uses a unique set of coping mechanisms for dealing with stress. Some of the more unhealthy mechanisms include dissociation, repression, projection, and displacement. Depending on the severity of the stress, a more extreme coping mechanism may result."

Elaine Wilkins was in a university classroom, teaching a lecture on coping mechanisms within the brain.

"Dr. Wilkins?"

A curious student raised his hand. Elaine nodded at him.

"What makes people use different coping mechanisms? Not all of them are bad, right?"

She nodded at the student's curiosity. "Correct, Danny. Some coping mechanisms such as sublimation, adaptation, and altruism are not unhealthy in the least. People choose the mechanism that is most comfortable to them... some are, I suppose, better than others."

"Dr. Wilkins?"

Elaine looked up at another student. "Yes, Amy?"

The girl hesitated. "Coping mechanisms help a person deal with current stressors, right?"

Elaine nodded.

The girl continued. "How is it that people can use coping mechanisms to deal with stress for a long time and even seem to be healthy... but, they snap from all of it later in life?"

Elaine was silent for a moment, considering the student's words. "The human mind is resilient machine. But, like a machine, it can only handle so many stressors before it begins to shut down."

Students looked up at her with confused expressions.

Elaine shook her head. "I don't mean physically..." She casually removed her glasses. "When I used to practice psychiatry, I had a patient who was a wonderful young man... loved to help others. But, he had been through a lot in his short life. Watched his parents die as a child, lost friends and nearly himself to a terrible cause... He always wanted to be strong for others and himself, and he had never truly dealt with the pain of everything that he had been through. When he arrived at the hospital, it seemed as though he was finally losing his mind... permanently cracked because of it all.

"He was like... a flightless bird, if you will. Despite how much he wanted to get better, to fly... he was so consumed by all the sadness, anger, and shame he had felt throughout his entire life that he could not. There would be days when he would seem completely normal, almost hopeful for the prospect of getting better. There were some days when he was completely catatonic, and a there were a few days when he was too violent to be left out of a straitjacket..." She said ruefully, fading.

The students were silent, taking in the terrible mental pictures.

"What happened to him?" A student finally asked.

Elaine was silent, lost in thought before she finally smiled. "It took some time and some investigating... but, he got better. He was actually the reason I decided to begin teaching," Elaine paused. "Because he finally learned to fly."

_Just like a Robin._

* * *

_Author's Note:_

It's done NOW, I promise! I had to tie in the title of the story, of course.

Thank you, everyone for your support through this entire tale. This has been tremendously fun to write. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.

Much love!


End file.
